Diarmait, son of Aed of Sláne, Sinech Cró fostered him. The Connaughtmen used to carry off her kine, so she brought about a bitter quarrel between Diarmait and Guare of Aidne. Then she said (to her fosterson):
- O Diarmait, thou slack in help, | fear of Guare destroys (?) us;
since thou art weak in winning battles, | come to us out of the manslaying!
Let Diarmait alone: speak not to him | of battle, nothing truly small is known:
Do right (?) to him as he is, | send to him, he will come to thee.
Hithertho he was called a hero | from the greatness of his splendour;
today a weakling in Meath | is Diarmait, son of Aed of Sláne.
Thirty flitches, thirty cows | was the feast of the kindred of Fergus,
a yearling at the end of the prey was paid to Diarmait for his guesting.
Our little boys will be big men | before our help comes with Crip,
the calves of our kine will be trained oxen | before help comes from Diarmait.